emed every moment to be on the point of becoming a star, but never did.
He enlisted as a private soldier and died in hospital, where he had been detailed as nurse.
The other had been educated at West Point, and had served in the Florida Indian wars; he was strikingly handsome and mercilessly opinionated; he commanded the first regiment of heavy artillery raised in Massachusetts, did much for the defense of Washington in the early days of the Civil War, and resigned his commission when Governor Andrew refused to see justice done — as he thought-to one of his subordinates.
His name was William Batcheldor Greene.
But all these companionships were wholly secondary to one which was for me most memorable, and brought joy for a few years and sorrow for many.
Going through the doors of Divinity Hall I met one day a young man so handsome in his dark beauty that he seemed like a picturesque Oriental; slender, keen-eyed, raven-haired, he arrested the eye and the heart like some fascinati